


Paradise Island

by a_windsor



Series: Exile [13]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, Mini fics, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2018-12-13 00:50:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11748672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_windsor/pseuds/a_windsor
Summary: Collection of prompt fills and mini fics from Tumblr. Jumps over time and setting. Just thought I'd collect them here. These are the ones that take place in Exile!verse canon.





	1. Chapter 1

_ things you said when you were crying _

She’s 22, and never been in anything approaching a serious relationship before this, and now she’s head over heels for an assassin princess and has been for over a year. When it comes to relationships, it doesn’t get much more serious than this.

And the lust part has been easy, obviously, and the romance, too, is pretty easy, when you’re with someone who takes your breath away almost daily, but it’s the _love_ love that’s the hardest. It’s the living your life beside someone, caring for them, accommodating their needs, their feelings, that has proved the most challenging for Sara.

Like coming into Nyssa’s (practically their) quarters to find the big bad Heir to the Demon in tears on the floor.

Sara has always, always been so bad at what to do when other people are crying. (Just ask Laurel, she briefly, so briefly, thinks.)

And in their time together, Sara has seen Nyssa occasionally, occasionally get a little misty-eyed (usually for ridiculously romantic reasons), but this? Alligator tears slipping down her soft cheeks, knees drawn up to her chest, back heaving with sobs. Despite their intimacy, Sara feels as if she has intruded on something incredibly private.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Nyssa says, and she sounds so, so small, her voice raw as if the sobbing has lasted hours. She looks small, too, huddled with her back to the big wooden bed. “I sent you-”

“Ra’s al Ghul countermanded your orders. He sent me back here.” Sara removes herself from the doorway, coming closer. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

It’s strange that sinking to her knees and wrapping Nyssa in her arms feels so _weird_ , but seeing Nyssa’s walls lowered this much is disconcerting, and she’s sure that at least part of Nyssa does not want her here. After all, Nyssa did send her away.

Nyssa stiffens initially, but she allows Sara to stay. The stone is hard against Sara’s knees and if pain were a thing they were bothered by, both would probably move. Instead, Sara remains, arms around her Nyssa, because she is pretty sure that is what you’re supposed to do when the woman you love is sobbing on the floor for the first time since you’ve known her. But again, she’s no expert.

“Nyssa, what is it?”

This close, Sara can now see that there is something held fiercely tight in Nyssa’s hand. It’s a picture. Sara can’t see much beyond dark hair, which tells her it’s a person in the picture. She slides a hand down Nyssa’s arm, softly squeezes her wrist, and then gently places her fingers on the photo.

“May I?”

Nyssa relaxes her iron grip, wordlessly rests her head against Sara’s shoulder, and Sara feels so honored and so scared as her need to protect Nyssa overwhelms her. The sobs have been replaced by slow tears and soft breaths.

The picture is just in Sara’s hand now, and she brings it into her view, illuminated by the sun through the shutters. 

“She’s beautiful,” Sara says. She already has a pretty good idea of who this is, even though Nyssa barely ever talks about her. 

“My mother,” Nyssa confirms. 

The resemblance is uncanny. Sara shifts off her knees, one arm still wrapped tightly around Nyssa’s shoulders, butt on the hard, cold stone, back against the big bed they so often share.

“Birthday, or?”

“The anniversary of her death,” Nyssa says, voice scratchy. 

“You were seven?”

Nyssa nods against her shoulder gently, and Sara feels breathless with the depth of trust Nyssa is showing her. 

She briefly wonders how she didn’t know what today was, since she’s been here long enough for this not to be the first such anniversary. Then she remembers: it was early in her training, but Nyssa had made a point of sending her away with Sar’ab and Fahd al-Rasadat, and Nyssa’d been extra prickly when they returned. Sara had been convinced that she’d done something wrong, but it had passed quickly enough. 

“Thank you,” Sara says, rather than admonish or even question. Nyssa’s had over 15 years of mourning her mother in her own way, and she’s entitled to that. But she wants to be up to this, as inexperienced as she is with other people’s grief, with her own heart being vulnerable to the pain of someone else’s. 

“Thank _you_ , habibti,” Nyssa says softly, and Sara still thrills at the endearment.

“Will you tell me about her?”

Nyssa nods but doesn’t say anything, and Sara knows she will have to school her innate impatience (as Nyssa would say). 

“Will you do it somewhere with, maybe, a cushion?”

Nyssa honest-to-god chuckles, and Sara swells with pride. She must be doing something right.

“Alright.”

“Okay. Get in bed. I’m getting you tea, and have you eaten yet today?”

“No, habibti,” Nyssa acquiesces, allowing Sara to lift her to her feet and tuck her into the bed. 

Sara leans over and kisses her cheek softly, and Nyssa smiles, just a little. Sara hands her back the photo.

“I’ll be right back.”

She heads for the kettle by the balcony, then sticks her head out the door to order a light lunch for the Heir from the ever-present guard. 

She thinks she might be starting to get the hang of this _love_ thing.

***

fin


	2. Chapter 2

_**things you said after it was over** _

 

“Phew.” A heavy breath. “That went well.”

“Taer al-Asfer, if that is a movie reference…”

“Of course it is a movie reference, and you know exactly what it’s from.”

“… Toy Story 2 _is_ the most humorous in the franchise.”

“I’ll give you that.” A grunt and a groan, the scuffle of leather and boots. “But it _did_ go well.”

“Hardly.”

“We’re alive, aren’t we?”

“Barely.”

“Proximity counts in whether you’re dead or not. It’s like horseshoes that way.”

“Sara…”

“C’mon, take my hand. It’s gonna be slow going with that broken ankle of yours, but we’ll be back at the safe house in no time. And we’re alive. Target’s dead. That’s a win.”

“In the very strictest definition, yes.” More scuffles, a sharply inhaled breath. Leather creaking against leather. “I would prefer larger margins of victory.”

“Wouldn’t we all. Put your weight on me, you stubborn brat. You cannot walk on an ankle that broken.”

“You could always carry me.”

A gasp, mostly feigned. “You’d _allow me_ to _carry_ the Heir to the Demon?”

“Why do I love you?”

“I’m hilarious. And super hot.”

“Mm.”

“I’m happy to carry you if you like.” 

“Not yet.”

“Didn’t think so. So be a good girl, and let’s do this three-legged race style.”

“How can you make so many jokes right now?”

A pause.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

More silence.

“You needn’t if you-”

“I joke ‘cause if I don’t, I get to think about what would have happened if it hadn’t gone so well. If _you_ hadn’t made it out. So I joke. Okay?”

“Of course, habibti.” 

A limping gait on a graveled cement floor, a nearly inaudible press of lips.

“Duck faster next time, ok?”

“Of course, habibti.”

“And we’re totally watching a Toy Story when we get home.”

“Of course, habibti.”

***

fin


	3. Chapter 3

_ things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear  _ [I imagine this as fitting in nicely in [Exile](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F3154532&t=OWJhMWZiY2I5ZjRmMDUxMGM4ZGVlZmUxZTA4OWQwNmM0ZjllODJmNixJRXd4eDY3aw%3D%3D&b=t%3AP9EPBcBcuRsO23CYWIw1Vw&p=http%3A%2F%2Fa-windsor.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F163132521851%2Fnyssara-and-20-if-you-have-the-time-that-is&m=1)’s epilogue, but it can generally be any time after Arrow Season 2.]

“I have to ask,” Laurel says. “Is Nyssa the first?”  


Nyssa freezes, out of sight, interested in where this is going. Eavesdropping is unseemly, and yet…

“First what?” Sara asks.

“Woman.”  


“Oh.”  


Nyssa can hear the grin in Sara’s voice. Always so cheeky.

“No way.”  


“What?!” Laurel exclaims, slapping her sister’s knee. “‘ _No way.’_?? How many others were there?”  


There is a pause where Sara must be doing that obnoxious thing where she over-dramatically counts in her head. How can Nyssa be so in love with such a brat?

“Seven? Eight? Remember Jenny Mortimer and how she was always hanging around? She was the first girl I kissed.”  


“You were twelve!”  


“Hey, I’ve always had game.”  


Nyssa rolls her eyes so hard it _actually_ hurts.

“Sara,” Laurel’s voice gets quieter as it gets more serious, “Why didn’t you ever say anything? Did you think that I, that we, would have a problem with that?”  


“It’s different with girls.”   


Nyssa can hear the shrug in Sara’s voice. None of this is new information to Nyssa, but it is interesting to hear how Sara articulates it now.

“When you and I talked about boys, it was always half competition. Even when it was just fun with girls, which is almost always was, it was just… different. More special. Not for sharing.”  


“Do you prefer women?” Laurel asks thoughtsfully.

“I prefer Nyssa,” Sara says without hesitation.  


“Awww.” Laurel coos, a little teasing.

“Boy or girl, it was never love until her.”  


Nyssa’s cheeks warm at the openness in Sara’s voice.

“That’s adorable. And I’m glad you found her, then.”  


“Yeah. And, I mean, there’s this thing that she does with her tongue that is just-”  


“Ohmygod, Sara, stop,” Laurel groans, and next is the unmistakable sound of a pillow hitting a face, followed by Sara’s familiar laughter.

Nyssa decides to intervene now, stepping into view. Laurel blushes even deeper red, and, pillow now in her lap, Sara’s grin just grows wider.

“Hey, babe.”  


“Habibti,” Nyssa greets. Then she feigns innocence: “Have I interrupted something?”  


“Nah. Laurel’s just a prude.”  


“I see. Well, shall we go acquire some food?”  


“Yeah, I’m starving,” Sara stands.

“Shocking.” “What a surprise.”  


Sara glares at them both in mock affront as they all head to the door.

***

fin


	4. Chapter 4

_ things you said at 1 am  _ (Exile!verse)  


“Won’t it be nice to have a baby in the house again, you said. Don’t you miss the baby years, you said.”

“I’m an idiot, okay? Do you feel better?” 

“No,” Nyssa says, almost petulantly. 

Nyssa continues to rock seven-month-old Soraya instinctively. Soraya continue to wail. She’s an expert at that. 

“We should bring her back to Nanda Parbat. Bring her to the dungeons. Anyone withholding intelligence would break within an hour,” Nyssa says.

“Oh good, let’s use our kid as a torture device.” 

“Our child is already a torture device. I’m simply suggesting we use her for a purpose.”

Sara has a retort but then pauses, with a grin. “ _Our kid_.”

Nyssa’s annoyance fades. She presses a kiss to Soraya’s sweaty temple.

It is night 7 on Paradise Island, less than a month into their new lives as a greatly expanded family. 

“I had forgotten how unending the nights can be at this age,” Nyssa says more softly. 

“Yeah. You think Damian’s old enough to tap in?”

“I do not,” Nyssa disappoints her.

“Damn. Would have been good payback.”

“One of us could get some rest.”

“Nah,” Sara smiles. “We’re in this together. But I’m going to have to break out the big guns.”

“Are we truly there?”

“Yes. We are. It’s Guns & Roses times.”

Sara likes to think that Nyssa’s groan is one of joy.

***

fin


	5. Chapter 5

_ things you said when you were drunk _

“You know. We really are just ninjas,” Sara giggles. She presses her bare foot against Nyssa’s hip. She takes another sip of her beautifully fruity concoction. She loves it when Thea makes the drinks.

“Bite your tongue,” Nyssa shoots back, sipping on her more dignified whisky.

“No,” Sara grins widely. “You do it.”

Nyssa’s eyes narrow and then she sets her whisky down, very slowly. She stalks over the couch, knees on either side of Sara’s hips. 

“You are such a brat when you are drunk,” she says, her face oh so close to Sara’s, and yet not close enough. 

“Yeah, but you love it.”

Nyssa closes the distance, unable to deny it.

***

fin


	6. Chapter 6

_ things you said at the kitchen (dinner, in this case) table _

“Father,” Nyssa says. 

Sara watches her steel her spine. Looks like she’s actually going to do it. Not that Sara is surprised, particularly. Nyssa  declared she was going to do it this morning, and Nyssa does everything she puts her mind to. 

“I would like to inform you of something.”

Sara isn’t sure what makes today the day. These dinners, between the Demon, his Heir, and her favorite student, are normal now. 

(As normal as Sara sneaking into Nyssa’s quarters at night and sneaking out in the morning. As normal as falling asleep in each other’s arms. As normal as rebellious lust turning into honest to god love. As normal as finding the most beautiful thing Sara has ever been apart of, right in the middle of a temple to death. Okay, maybe the last two aren’t so normal.) 

The three dine together several times a week when they are in Nanda Parbat. But Nyssa has decided tonight was it, and now she is going to do it.

“I have claimed Taer al-Asfer as my Beloved.”

Ra’s al Ghul’s serene expression has not changed. He continues to sip at his wine.

“I am aware.”

Nyssa is stunned into silence, and Sara almost chokes on her soup. 

“There is nothing that happens without my knowledge.” He pauses and turns his gaze to Sara. “Or without my approval.” He raises his glass towards her. She hastens to return the gesture. “I have no objection, so long as Taer al-Asfer continues to serve well, and you remain focused on your duties.”

“Of course, Father.” 

She does not thank him with words, but her eyes fairly beam with gratitude, and Sara has to hide a smile in her glass. 

It is not the first but it is the most _profound_ time that Sara has seen Ra’s al Ghul not as the Demon, not as the man who could kill her in an instant, but as a father. 

“And you may stop the charade and move Taer al-Asfer into your quarters if it suits your needs. There is no reason for the nightly subterfuge.” 

This time it takes all of her training not to laugh, and she knows her cheeks turn pink. She catches Nyssa’s moment of mortification before the Heir schools her features.

“In any event, I am sending you to Kuala Lumpur in two days’ time. When you are there, I would like you to pick up…”

He moves on to everyday conversation, but Sara keeps her eyes on Nyssa. Ra’s sees all, knows all, but does he really know what this meant to his daughter? That he will allow her this indulgence? 

If he does, he does not let on. Sara lets her foot drift out to brush ever so lightly against Nyssa’s, the only touch she’ll venture. Then she centers her focus back on the Head of the Demon and nods intently, determined to remain worthy enough to stay at Nyssa’s side.

***

fin


	7. Chapter 7

**"Is that seriously your Halloween costume?"**

 

“Is that really your Halloween costume?” Sara asks, skeptical look on her face, a pumpkin named Damian on her hip.

“You are lucky I am wearing even this,” Nyssa argues, minutely adjusting her cat ears. “Why are we keeping up with this charade?”

Sara, who somehow came up with a full cowboy costume, here on this isolated Mediterranean island, definitely pouts now.

“It’s his first Halloween. Ish.”

“So we must go from door-to-door, here in the villa, collecting candy we previously distributed to the members of our household ourselves.

“Yes.”

Recently one-year-old Damian smiles from her Beloved’s hip, a bit of drool slowly making its way towards the bright green chin stop holding his ridiculous hat in place. She finds her resolve breaking in the face of Sara’s resoluteness and Damian’s oblivious happiness.

She does venture one final objection.

“Halloween is not a League holiday.”

“And we agreed we’d raise him half-American.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Candy and costumes on Halloween,” Sara says, shoving a pillowcase into Nyssa’s hands.

“He can’t even eat candy,” Nyssa complains, although she knows she is already lost.

“But I can.”

***

fin


	8. Chapter 8

**One of the two Sara or Nyssa to the other "YOU taught him that".  
**

***

“ _You_ taught him that,” Sara pants, breathless. 

“Of course I did,” Nyssa grins, picking Damian up off of Sara’s prone form. 

He’s giggling.

“A sneak attack,” Sara complains, but she can’t help but smile as the three-year-old continues to laugh from Nyssa’s hip.

“This _is_ the League of Assassins, habibti. Not the League of Brute-ish, Half-Cocked Vigilantes,” Nyssa clucks, extending her free hand to help Sara to her feet. 

Sara rolls her eyes and accepts the hand. Under different circumstances, she would use that hand to catch Nyssa off guard with a retaliatory yank. This time, though, Nyssa has precious, traitorous cargo in her arms.

So instead, Sara pulls herself up and surprises each of them with  kiss.

“Just remember, D: vengeance _is_ justice.”

Nyssa’s laugh echoes down the stone hallway.

***

fin


	9. Chapter 9

**“You forgot to say the magic word.”**

 

“You forgot to say the magic word,” Sara reminds.

“Oh, please,” Damian says. The five-year-old even manages to bat his eyelids over-sweetly, a classic Sara move.

“Please is not magic. It is simple manners. You do not say it to magically summon up what you want. You say it as a sign of respect for those around you.”

“Oh,” Damian says.

Sara rolls her eyes.

“Just give him the apple, Nyssa.”

Nyssa sighs and drops the fruit in question into his hand.

“You are five now, Damian. You can handle basic manners without constant reminding.”

“Yes, Khala,” Damian chirps obediently. Then he smiles sweetly and adds, “Thank you, Khala.”

“You’re welcome.”

“May I be excused?”

Nyssa puts hand onto his head, scruffs his messy hair warmly.

“Of course. Thank you for asking. Don’t share too much with Sarookh. Her stomach is small, and the kitchen already feeds her excessively.”

“Yes, Khala.” Damian leans over and kisses her cheek, only having to push up on his toes a little to reach her in her chair on the balcony. He is growing so quickly, and he already shows signs of being tall like her father. He does the same to Sara and scampers off yelling for Rocket.

“You’re very cute when you’re grumpy,” Sara teases.

“I’m not grumpy.”

Sara snorts. “Sorry, babe. Of course not. You just made gave D a lecture on why he says please and how it’s not magic because you’re totally happy.”

Nyssa does not deign to respond to her beloved’s snark.

“It’s okay. We’re going to miss you, too.”

Sara is too insightful, as always.

“I serve at the command of the Demon.”

“Yeah, but it’s okay to wish the Demon gave you more than thirty-six hours at home,” Sara says gently.

“The three of us have not occupied the same time zone for longer than two days in seven weeks,” Nyssa quietly laments.

“I know.” Sara stands and tugs Nyssa to her feet, into a warm embrace. “It’ll calm down. Promise. It always does.”

“I know.”

“You could always tell your dad that Damian is falling behind and he needs both of us home for awhile to catch him up.”

“You know I don’t lie to my father.”

“Except that one time,” Sara grins. “That whole “Sara is dead” thing.”

Nyssa rolls her eyes again.

“C’mon. Let’s go make the most of our last seven hours home together,” Sara pulls away, grabbing her hand and pulling her after.

“And what do you suggest we do?”

“I was thinking a very competitive round of Go Fish.”

***

fin


	10. Chapter 10

1\. Exile!verse (2 and 3 coming tomorrow and the next day). 

***

“I’m not jealous!” Sara insists.

“Mhmm,” Nyssa nods.

“I’m not.”

She’s not. Nyssa was gone for three straight weeks. It’s normal that all of their children, two- and four-legged, would be incredibly attached to her. Sara’s feeling a little attached herself.

It’s just that, between one dog, three cats, a ten-year-old, a five-year-old, and a two-and-a-half-year-old, there is no space on the bed for her to attach.

“Perhaps Umm Saleem will snuggle you.”

She uses the English “snuggle”. It’s freaking adorable.

“Haha.”

“Yes, it’s a long shot.”

Sara rolls her eyes.

“Damian’s bed is open.”

Sara throws a pillow at her.

***

fin


	11. Chapter 11

Set during the Exile epilogue

***

“I don’t think I’ve ever played Spin the Bottle,” Nyssa observes.

“And we’re going to keep it that way,” Sara quickly follows up. For once, Nyssa is more intoxicated than she is. Sara is both enjoying it and trying to protect her adorable drunk. What the hell is in the drinks Thea is mixing?

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Felicity complains at that, and Sin nods along tipsily.

Nyssa must be drunk not to have objected to the amount of alcohol that Sin has imbibed.

“There is absolutely no one here I should be kissing,” Laurel says. “Not the least because I’m stone cold sober, and you are all wasted.”

They’d gotten her permission, of course, before Thea started mixing. They’d even offered to decamp to Thea’s apartment. Laurel insisted on keeping an eye on all five of them here, though.

“Actually,” Laurel presses on. “None of us should be kissing each other. Aside from the obvious.”

She gestures between Nyssa and Sara. Sara takes the opportunity to smack a kiss to Nyssa’s cheek.

“But it’s a rite of passage. What if,” Thea says thoughtfully, legs draped over the side of the couch, head in Sin’s lap, “We replaced the kissing with something else?”

“Like what?” Laurel asks warily.

“Sparring,” Nyssa suggests.

“No!” the Lance sisters shoot down in unison.

“Shots!” Felicity cries, and Rocket, asleep in her lap, startles at the sound.

“Sips!” Laurel yells over the chorus of agreement. Then she sighs. “I’ll get more water.”

***

fin


	12. Chapter 12

Exile!verse (actually the furthest forward we’ve been.)

***

“Okay, am I drunk, or did you really just say that?”

“I said it,” Nyssa confirms.

“You think it’s totally okay for our _ten-year-old_ to take _flying_ lessons?” Sara gapes.

“It’s a useful life skill. Especially in _our_ life.”

“She can’t even see over the dashboard!”

“The initial lessons will be wholly theoretical, and then we shall alter the controls accordingly.”

“So she’s going to learn how to fly a plane-”

“And helicopter.”

A glare.

“Before she knows how to drive a car?” Sara finishes.

“I already taught her how to drive a car.”

“What?! Were you ever going to tell me that?”

“Soraya is a very energetic child, who has a fascination with modes of transportation.”

“And going very, very fast. Which seems to me to be a reason _not_ to teach her those things.”

“She will learn those skills whether we teach them to her or not. Or she will at least attempt to. I prefer that she learn them properly.”

Sara sighs.

“Fine.” She’s not really that mad. She totally sees the logic. It’s just- “I thought I was the fun mom.”

Nyssa laughs. “I’m sorry, habibti.”

“How am I supposed to top that?”

“I am not providing fun. This is training. Lessons.”

Sara raises an eyebrow, Nyssa-style.

“ _Flying a plane_ isn’t fun? For Soraya ‘Why can’t my horse go any faster’ al Ghul?”

Nyssa chuckles.

“Still. You two can sneak into the kitchen for extra dessert tonight. Then you’ll be the ‘fun mom’ again.”

Sara shrugs. 

“You know we were going to do that anyway. It’s fine. I guess after _eighteen years_ of being the boring mom, you deserve a chance to be the fun one. At least until I think of something else.”

Nyssa rolls her eyes.

“You’re so very kind.”

***

fin


	13. Chapter 13

“I know it’s 3 in the morning, but I can’t find my cat” for Nyssara just because I think it would be funny

We’re getting Exile!verse!

***

“Habibti, it is three in the morning. Come back to bed,” Nyssa grumbles. It’s a cool night in their island villa, and she wants nothing more than to continue to sleep cuddled in their bed. Sara has been gone for some time, though, wandering in and out of their room while Nyssa continues to doze.

“I know it’s three in the morning, but I can’t find my cat,” Sara replies.

“Which one?” Nyssa asks. 

Sarookh is awakened by all this dialogue, standing up and shaking before flopping back down, closer to Nyssa’s belly. 

“You know which one,” Sara complains. 

“Well, _why_ do you need to find Peanut? I’m sure she is perfectly safe, wherever she is.”

“I had a bad dream,” Sara says, checking under their bed once again.

“About the cats?”

“About Peanut,” Sara says, agitated. “She was hurt and dying and…”

Now more awake, Nyssa sits up with realization. The fixation on the smallest, most adventurous cat… She brushes a hand over her face, wiping away the sleep, and then says, gently:

“Did you try Soraya’s room?”

Sara freezes. 

“No,” she brushes her off. “I’m not going to wake her up. She needs to rest.”

Nyssa stands and crosses to her, taking her into her arms. 

“Habibti. Soraya is going to be alright. It is just a broken bone.”

“Her _back_ , Nyssa. She broke her _back_.”

“Verebrae, and only three. The medics say she will be up and moving around soon enough. She is very tough.”

“Tough is what got us into this mess!”

“I believe her propensity to climb is what got us into this mess,” Nyssa soothes. “And she will heal, and learn her limits. It has been two weeks. All is well.”

Sara blows out a heavy breath and relaxes some, resting her forehead against Nyssa’s shoulder.

“I want to point out that _you_ were the crazy one first. You didn’t sleep for the whole first week.”

“That is true. Which is why I am particularly tired right now,” Nyssa teases. Sara laughs. Nyssa continues: “Soraya will heal in time.”

“And be back out risking everything in no time,” Sara says, a bit bitterly.

“I have learned it is best not to cage wild things,” Nyssa says pointedly, punctuating her point with a kiss to Sara’s temple. “Better that they stay close of their own accord. And in our lives, those we love will always be in some kind of danger. You and I have both had our share of life-threatening injuries. But we are better equipped to handle such dangers than any else I know. And Soraya is not different.”

Sara sighs. “You’re right.”

“That doesn’t mean it is not scary. Why don’t you go spell Umm Saleem for the night and be at Soraya’s side?”

“Okay,” Sara agrees, pushing up to kiss Nyssa gently. “Thank you.”

“Mm. I’ll let you know if I see Peanut.” The name still feels ridiculous in her mouth, all these years later.

“Thank you.”

As Sara opens the door to go sit with their youngest, the pet of the hour pushes in, brushing past her ankles and jumping onto the bed with Sarookh.

“Well,” Nyssa says, “I believe we found the cat.”

***

fin


	14. Chapter 14

Exile!verse is what came out! Slots right between Impulse and Whirlwind.

——-

“You knocked on the door at one in the morning to cuddle?” Sara asks, blearily.

“Well, he wants to cuddle, but he is not yet capable of knocking,” Nyssa says, motioning with the whimpering infant in her arms.

“And why are you knocking?” Sara asks. “You live here, too.”

She’s already stepping aside, letting Nyssa and Damian come into their Nanda Parbat quarters. Rocket stands on the edge of the bed, curious. Peanut, Butter, and Jelly look up from their settee perches. 

“I said I would take first watch tonight. I did not want to presume upon your sleep.”

“Nyssa,” Sara yawns, taking the cranky baby from Nyssa’s arms. “We agreed to raise a newborn. Presumption upon our sleep is putting it lightly. And you don’t have to do any of this alone. We’ve got this, together.”

Nyssa fairly melts with relief as Damian’s whimpers subside.

“Thank you, for I truly cannot do this without you.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you volunteered,” Sara teases.

Nyssa, exhausted and abashed, opens her mouth to apologize again, but Sara waves her off.

“I’m just giving you a hard time. I think I earned that.”

Nyssa smiles: “I think he prefers you.”

“Pft. He just likes the change in scenery. Besides, he’s tiny; he should be sleeping in here anyway, at least for a couple more months. Lets us sleep a little more, too.”

“I’ll have the bassinet brought in, at least until we leave in a few days.”

“To our super secret undisclosed location?” Sara grins, climbing back into bed, Damian cuddled against her.

“Exactly.”

“It better be somewhere sunny.”

“It is,” Nyssa promises. She lingers at the edge of the bed. “I was thinking, once we are settled into our new home, we should have your mother out. Laurel and Sin, as well. And it would not hurt to have Felicity there as a second opinion on our cyber concealment.”

Sara almost drops the baby.

“I - I didn’t even know they could know,” she gapes.

“They must. We’ll need their help.”

Nyssa’s thoughts echo Sara’s own. She has no idea how she could keep something like this from them, or how she could do this without asking her mother a million questions.

“I’d love that.”

Nyssa nods, because of course she knew that.

“We’ll start making arrangements tomorrow. For now let’s are about getting that bassinet in here…”

Sara watches fondly Nyssa, clearly exhausted, starts to busy herself.

“I think she’s crazy,” Sara whispers to the baby in her arms. “But we’re really fucking lucky to have her.”

***

fin


	15. Chapter 15

Exile!verse

***

“Hey, have you seen the...? Oh.”

“Close your mouth, habibti,” Nyssa admonishes warmly.

Sara struggles to do so, feeling as if her tongue is literally hanging out of her mouth, Roger Rabbit style. Not usually one to think much of what she looks like besides  _comfy_ , Sara suddenly feels  _disgusting_  in her ratty old sweats, hair hastily pulled back, Rocket held haphazardly between one hand and her hip.

Damian sprints in behind her, nearly running into Sara, still frozen in place.

“Habibti, has she seen it? Whoa- Khala, you look beautiful,” the six-year-old says genuinely.

“What he said,” Sara manages.

Dressed in what must be her most gorgeous gown, and she has many, Nyssa smiles at them both fondly. 

“Thank you.” Her eyes dance with mirth when she meets Sara’s. “Both of you.”

“Are we supposed to be fancy, too?” Damian asks, looking down at his own basketball shorts and Starling City sweatshirt.

“No,” Nyssa assures them. “This is for my next assignment. I was simply making sure the fit was appropriate.”

The midnight blue silk looks like it was sewn onto her so yeah, the fit is freaking appropriate.

“Are you okay, habibti?” Damian asks, looking at her quizzically.

Sara hands Rocket off to him, maybe a bit too forcefully.

Nyssa is smirking at her. Sara needs to wipe that damn smirk off her face.

“Yeah, fine,” Sara says distractedly. “Go see if Sar’ab has seen the... thing.”

“Alright,” Damian shrugs and heads out, spoiled Rocket in his arms.

“Eloquent,” Nyssa teases.

“You better show me where that zipper is, like,  _right now_. “

Nyssa laughs warmly as Sara tackles her to the bed.

 

***

fin


	16. Chapter 16

Nyssara fic/Drabble - them celebrating their x year anniversary

 

***

 

Sara doesn’t really process the date until she catches sight of her smart watch mid-battle.

“Shit,” she curses, then ducks the swing of a bodyguard’s AK. She is too close for the weapon to be useful to its wielder - one of the many problems with guns.

“What’s wrong, habibti?” Nyssa asks, elbowing her assailant in the nose.

“It’s our anniversary,” Sara says, landing her bo directly across the lug’s jaw, knocking him out cold.

“What?” Nyssa exclaims, dumping the final bodyguard on his back.

Sara does the math while grabbing a grenade from her down assailant’s belt. 

“Twenty years ago, today,” Sara explains, pulling the pin and tossing the explosive over her shoulder. She grabs Nyssa’s arm in the same movement, dragging her behind an overturned table to avoid shrapnel. “You saved me.”

“Smooth,” Nyssa praises and mocks in equal measure. “I’ve never understood why you insist on calculating from that time,” she says after the “boom”. “It took us months to deepen our relationship.”

“Because I’ve been yours ever since,” Sara says dramatically.

Nyssa rolls her eyes.

“And because it drives you crazy,” Sara admits.

“That seems much more likely,” Nyssa notes, dust in her hair, affection in her voice. She peeks over the table. No movement. She’ll give it a few moments before going to retrieve proof of the target’s elimination. “I believe you are simply angling for an extra night in Florence.”

“The kids won’t miss us for  _one more night_.”

“Very well.”

Sara grins, then watches Nyssa’s six  _very closely_  as she hops over the table to retrieve the target’s ring. 

“Twenty years,” she muses. “One more and I’ll have known you as long as I didn’t know you.”

“I think that makes you old, habibti.”

“Ha!” Sara calls back, starting to clear the exits for their extraction. “Watch who you are calling old, old lady.”

Nyssa sighs and steps over a corpse.

“Do you really want to insult me, Beloved?” She uses the English form of the endearment, the one she uses when she’s teasing or scolding - or, most often, both. “On this, our anniversary?”

Sara laughs, delighted. Goofy Nyssa is the best.

“I’ll make it up to you over dinner,” Sara promises.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

fin


End file.
